


And Home Before Dark

by onlyapapermoon



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Body Horror, Body Modification, Captivity, Centaurs, Fauns & Satyrs, Feminization, Kidnapping, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mpreg, Selkies, Tentacle Monsters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyapapermoon/pseuds/onlyapapermoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The woods are known for their dangers, but it's the doing of a rival closer to home when Kurt is kidnapped on the eve of his wedding to Prince Blaine. Enchanted and trapped in a lonely cabin, he is forced to bear the progeny of the woods' magical creatures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a Glee Kink Meme prompt (http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/48822.html?thread=63557814#t63557814), although it wound up going on a bit of a tangent.

Like all children growing up in the palace, Kurt had been warned to stay away from the woods. Adults went into the woods sometimes, hunters and woodcutters and those gathering herbs, but they always took care to make little offerings to the woods’ denizens before they set out, lest they be gored by a boar or struck by their own axe or poisoned by some well-hidden nightshade. Even the knights venturing out said long good-byes to their loved ones before they went into the woods to deal with some marauding creature, just in case.  
  
Even with those concerns in mind, though, Kurt had a fairly happy childhood. There was a long lonely period after his mother died, when his father, the stablemaster, was suddenly all he had in the world, but with the years he began to make friends and he began to be happy again. There were darker days too, of course, when he dealt with the lingering sadness from his mother’s loss, or when some of the other children decided he was too odd and feminine for a boy, and would chase him through the halls until he found a place to hide from them. His friends did what they could about both problems, even when it wasn’t much, and he appreciated it greatly. He was sure he only learned what true happiness was, though, when he met the prince in his fourteenth year.  
  
Prince Blaine was the younger brother of the Crown Prince, Cooper, so he’d spent years fostering at the homes of various great knights of the realm, and only came back to the palace when he was on the cusp of manhood. Kurt’s meeting with him had been by chance, when Kurt was running from his bullies and happened to duck into the alcove where Prince Blaine had hidden from his older brother. The resultant noisy collision of the bullies and Crown Prince Cooper outside had forestalled speech for a time, but the conversation Kurt and Prince Blaine carried on with expressions alone was enough to have them both in hysterics and plant the seeds of friendship.  
  
As the years passed, that friendship grew and flowered into something more, so that by his sixteenth birthday, Prince Blaine had gotten his parents’ grudging permission to court Kurt, common as he was by birth. The court as a whole was not as surprised as they might have been, since most were under the impression that the two young men were already courting by that time. Many of the noble families did take the choice of a commoner as a snub, but the younger generation tended to think it romantic and the elders slowly came to accept the situation.  
  
There were those who objected, though.

Kurt had always been wary of the young noble Sebastian, partly because of his unrepentant flirtation with the Prince, but mostly because there was something about him Kurt couldn’t describe, something that stirred memories of his youthful terror of the woods. Sebastian’s objections to Prince Blaine’s choice of Kurt had been loud and pointed right up until a wedding date was announced, after which he fell silent. When Kurt voiced his concerns, Prince Blaine furrowed his brow, but assured him it was probably just that Sebastian finally realized he’d lost. Reluctantly, Kurt let it rest, in favor of concentrating on wedding plans with his love.  
  
A few nights before the wedding, Kurt awoke to a scratching at his window. Before he could do more than blink sleepily, the windowpane shattered inward and some large black shape dove into the room. He screamed, covering the sound of another smash of glass. After that, he knew nothing.  
  
After the second day of frenzied searching for the Prince’s missing fiancée, one of the palace guards admitted that she’d either seen or dreamed that night a giant bird flying off towards the woods, something dangling in its claws.  
  
As for Kurt, he awoke again the morning after his kidnapping to an unfamiliar room. He took in a sharp breath and his eyes darted around, assessing it for any signs of danger. It looked like a cozy little cabin, with a single room holding a table with two chairs, a plushly padded rocking chair in the corner, what looked like a crib, and a few trunks and cabinets. He cautiously rose from the bed and padded around the room, breathing as steadily as he could when he noticed that every view from the windows showed nothing but thick tree trunks in all directions. He was somewhere in the woods.  
  
There was no fireplace to provide a poker for defense, so Kurt grabbed the broom resting by the door and tried the doorknob. It didn’t budge. Kurt bit his lip and looked around again. He’d just moved to the nearest window with the intent of breaking it – he didn’t know what was going on, but he was determined to escape before his captor returned – when the door swung open and a familiar voice spoke.  
  
“Don’t bother, they’re unbreakable.”  
  
Kurt swung around with the broom at the ready, but it was yanked from his grip and used to shove him a step backwards, away from Sebastian, who stood there with a smirk.  
  
“You!” Kurt hissed, clenching his fists.  
  
Sebastian just looked amused and casually tossed the broom behind him, easily sidestepping in front of it when Kurt made to grab for it again. “Me. Aw, did you expect Prince Charming to show up for a surprise elopement?”  
  
That stung, but Kurt refused to show Sebastian was getting to him, despite the sharp reminder that he’d been taken away from Prince Blaine so soon before their wedding. “Let me go,” Kurt demanded fiercely instead, drawing himself up. “If you're the one who brought me here, then release me now, and I might not push for you to be beheaded.”  
  
Sebastian just let out a braying laugh, and Kurt soothed himself for a moment by imagining him sprouting donkey ears. “Nice try,” Sebastian said, pretending to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes, “really, great try, but you’re stuck here for a good long time. By the way, have you noticed anything different… lady?”  
  
Kurt just rolled his eyes at the familiar insult, but it called attention to something that had been nagging at him. Something felt… different between his legs. He subtly shifted in a way that would normally have made his limp cock brush his thigh under the loose nightshirt, but there was nothing there.

Sebastian looked viciously smug, apparently pleased at the sudden whiteness of Kurt’s face. “I just wanted to see your face when you realized, but I have to be getting back to the castle now - you know, the place you're never going to see again." Sebastian was backing toward the door before Kurt could do anything. The door slammed behind him with a final sound, leaving the room echoing with his parting shot of, "Have fun tonight, princess! I hear it’s the satyrs’ turn first, hope you don’t mind men with a bit of hair.”  
  
Too stunned to move, Kurt finally dropped a hand to his crotch, feeling around as if his hand was about to be burned. Sure enough, the bulge he was used to was gone, replaced by a much smaller soft mound with a divide down the middle. He couldn’t process the reality of it for a good long time, but when it came crashing down, Kurt slid boneless to the floor in shock and let himself hyperventilate, then sob raggedly as the loss set in.  
  
Over the course of the day, Kurt made more discoveries, with varying degrees of unwelcomeness. The loss of his cock was not the only change to his body – the mirror in a corner showed that his once-slim hips had widened a couple of inches, giving his body almost an hourglass shape that he gaped at, unable to accept for most of the day. Once he was up to exploring, he found that the cabinets were full of odd things, soft blankets and baby toys, but nothing that could be used as a weapon. One of the trunks was obviously magical, since every time he opened it, a variety of food appeared inside, and experimentation showed he could wish for whatever food he wanted, unless it was poison. There were bound books on the shelves, most along the theme of caring for an infant. Kurt was beginning to get a bad feeling about the implications of the furniture and resources he’d been provided.

Eventually, Kurt ran out of ideas for how to escape, and he let himself collapse onto the bed in exhaustion after trying one last time to break a window or force the door.  
  
The shadows cast by moonlight through the windows had shifted a few feet by the time Kurt awoke again. He found himself rising from the bed and shedding his nightshirt carelessly, padding naked across the floor. For some reason, it didn’t strike him as odd when the door opened easily at his touch. He walked thoughtlessly through the doorway and out into the woods, following some path of moonlight as he wove between the thick trunks of ancient trees.  
Some undistinguishable time later, Kurt’s steps had led him into a clearing, and he stopped in the middle. Soft grass was underfoot, and tiny white flowers in the trees released a light perfume for nighttime insects and bats.  
  
As Kurt stood there in the center of the open space under the stars, the fog lifted from his mind and he stared around wildly, suddenly wary of whatever was about to befall him now.  
  
“Well, look at you,” a voice said.  
  
Kurt whipped around to look and was stunned. The speaker was just entering the clearing, making a soft clopping sound as he walked, and it was his looks that made Kurt stare. He looked like a mostly normal man from the waist up, though with the exception of horns and hairy ears sprouting from his wild curly hair – but from the waist down, he had the hind legs and very exposed genitals of a goat.  
  
Kurt blushed and took an involuntary step back at the lecherous look he was receiving. Still, even as the goat-man, the satyr, trotted closer, Kurt found himself completely lacking the urge to run, or to fight. He was given no time to ponder the strange absence, though, because the satyr quickly wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist and drew him close.  
  
Kurt did struggle then, pushing at the satyr’s shoulders in a vain attempt to create some space between them, but no matter what he did, he could still feel the stiff, thin cock poking all too intimately against his belly and a pair of heavy balls brushing at the front of his upper thighs. "No," Kurt tried saying, "let go!"  
  
“Oh, you’re a pretty little thing,” the satyr was saying, grinning as he looked Kurt up and down from the close range, grinding his dick harder into Kurt’s stomach. “When I tell my brothers about this, they’ll be even more eager to meet you.”  
  
Kurt struggled harder at that, switching to pleas of, “Just let me go, please, I don’t want to be here!”  
  
The satyr ignored him, except to chuckle, “Don’t worry, sweet thing, I’m going to take very good care of you this night!”

“No,” Kurt tried to protest, “I don’t-“  
  
He was cut off by the satyr pressing a kiss to his mouth. The satyr’s lips caressed Kurt’s, and the satyr dipped his tongue inside for just a moment before withdrawing. It was far from being Kurt’s first kiss; he and the prince had snuck away often enough to exchange kisses more heated than the satyr’s had been, but the forced intimacy of it made tears prick at Kurt’s eyes.  
  
“Please,” he tried one last time, feeling his hopes of release dwindling. The satyr lowered him to the ground, though, and paid no heed to his struggles.  
  
“Spread your legs, pretty one,” the satyr urged him as he laid down heavily on top of Kurt and pinned him down, furry goat legs slotting between Kurt’s thighs and forcing them apart. The satyr’s cock was even more evident in this position where it nudged at the split between Kurt’s legs, setting up tingles in unfamiliar nerves. “There, that’s it.”  
  
Kurt kicked his legs helplessly on either side of the creature nestled between them, chafing the insides of his thighs on rough goat fur, but he couldn’t stop the satyr from pulling back just enough to reach down with one hand and line himself up. Even the small amount of freedom wasn't enough for Kurt to escape, since the satyr just lowered himself back down and pinned him again.  
  
There was a poking, then a nudging, then a piercing pain in the new place between Kurt’s legs, and Kurt felt his whole body seize up with it as the satyr sank inside.  
  
“Oh,” the satyr was panting, eyes closed and mouth dropping open. “oh, that’s it, that’s – oh you are a sweet thing, yes, so _tight_ …”  
  
Kurt heard himself give a little gasping sob, but the satyr was already beginning to move, churning his hips to force his cock in and out within Kurt’s body, dragging against the tense inner walls and opening with each movement.  
  
The soft grass rubbed against Kurt's back as his body was jolted rhythmically. Within moments, the satyr’s hips were moving faster than Kurt would have thought possible, hammering his cock into Kurt’s insides. The strangeness of the feeling made it hard for Kurt to concentrate, but he tried to wriggle out from under the satyr all the same. The satyr simply grinned, though, teeth bright like a crescent moon in the night, and reached down to grab Kurt's hips and haul him back down onto his relentlessly-moving cock. Kurt gasped and the satyr seemed to take that as encouragement, pounding in even harder. Each time Kurt tried to squirm away, the satyr redoubled his efforts with inhuman vigor, until Kurt stopped trying. After a time, with Kurt lying limp under the satyr's weight, his body practically vibrating with the pace of the thrusts, he found that the jolting of the cock inside him ceased to be painful or even uncomfortable, though it was still indescribably odd.

Kurt was by then staring up at the stars above with glassy eyes, so he didn’t notice at first when the satyr let go of a hip and reached down between them with one hand. He did notice, though, when the satyr’s calloused fingertips touched him just above where they were joined. Kurt gave a little jump and the satyr chuckled breathlessly, his fingers roaming over dampened skin for a moment before he seemingly found what he was looking for. “I told you that I would take care of you, did I not?” the satyr reminded him.

Something ticklishly warm sparked through Kurt’s body, and he felt his hips actually jerk towards the intruding cock. The pressure and friction inside were still odd, but suddenly seemed almost pleasurable, if he ignored everything else about the situation. He stared at the satyr, stunned, but the satyr was just smiling proudly, his eyes dark. The satyr set about rubbing with a will, his fingertips circling and caressing, diving into the hot divide below and dragging moisture up and over the flesh that seemed to make a liquid pleasure seep through Kurt’s lower body, while still jackhammering away with his hips. Soon, to his shame, Kurt was gasping for air and writhing on the grass of the clearing, no longer certain if he was trying to escape or move closer to the satyr atop him.  
  
“Oh, ah, yes,” the satyr panted, his movements speeding up and sending sparks along Kurt’s nerves. “You feel gorgeous, so tight and wet, pretty thing, go ahead, finish for me.” The satyr probably said more, but something was building inside Kurt, winding up tight and hot in his belly until the pleasure crested and washed over him, sending numbing tingles to every part of his body and driving awareness from his mind.  
  
Kurt was vaguely aware of the satyr’s hips pumping more furiously before and then jerking to a halt, but he barely heard the satyr’s groan of pleasure, still deafened by the ringing in his ears from his own climax. For a moment, the only sound in the clearing was both of their loud panting breaths.  
  
And then, the satyr simply pulled out without ceremony and rose to his hooves, shaking his hips for a second like a dog drying off. He left Kurt spread out on the ground, suddenly chilled by the night air on his naked wet skin. The satyr stretched, then trotted to the center of the clearing, where he muttered a few words in a language Kurt couldn’t recognize. As the words were uttered, Kurt felt his mind fogging over as it had when he’d first woken that night, and he rose to his feet as if pulled by invisible hands. The satyr gave Kurt one last fond look, then disappeared back into the darkness of the surrounding trees.  
  
The clearing that had looked so tranquil before was still again quiet save for the low buzz of insects and the occasional croak of a frog or piercing cry of a night-hunting bird. Kurt felt his feet begin to take him back into the woods again, between the trees with their gossiping leaves and the occasional dead branch reaching out like a skeletal hand. The half-decayed leaves from last autumn barely crunched under his feet as he walked in a trance back to the cabin, his soiled body’s aches muted to his dazed mind.  
  
When he returned to the cabin, the door swung shut behind him and he felt himself crawling into bed mindlessly. His nightshirt was gone from the floor, but the detail seemed as unimportant as the stains undoubtedly transferring from his skin to the sheets. Feeling dizzy, Kurt surrendered to the pull of sleep.

The next morning showed none of the dreamless night’s mercy, and Kurt could only curl in on himself in bed as every emotion he’d ignored the previous night crashed down on him.  
  
He was unable to leave his bed that day, or the next, except to use the magically-emptying chamber pot or to reluctantly take a meal. It had never been in Kurt’s nature to give up, though, so on the third day, he forced himself to rise from bed with new determination and search again for a means of escape.  
  
The search was still fruitless, though, and eventually Kurt was forced to settle into a routine of whiling away the time by reading and sewing new clothes from the filmy white fabric he’d found, although he still checked the door and windows for any sign of weakness each morning, and dreamed of the clearing every other night.  
  
The passage of time was marked by changes in the world outside Kurt’s windows, the leaves darkening in their green before beginning to yellow around the edges, color licking along their veins like flame until the entire tree was alight. He was glad the cabin maintained an unchanging warmth, given the thin fabric he’d been forced to use for his clothing, but as the season changed, Kurt began to notice changes in himself, too. Although he’d done his best to stay determined that he would find a way to be rescued or to rescue himself, he began to find himself swinging more wildly between strong optimism and crushing despair, and more than once, tears would begin to flow without warning or provocation.  
  
At first, Kurt had been sure it was the stress of isolation catching up with him, but then, while bathing in the small tub that had simply appeared one day – at first, the obvious magic that kept it perpetually filled with clean warm water unnerved him, but he grew to appreciate it as much as he could appreciate anything here – he noticed something odd. His stomach, which had only just begun to lose the last of its baby fat, felt different when his hand brushed over it, firmer than it should be. As the leaves continued to change, Kurt couldn’t deny what had happened to him. His abdomen was beginning to bulge outward, as if swollen from the inside.  
  
There were days of panic this time. Kurt tried refusing to eat, but his body’s demands were impossible to ignore, and it didn’t help anyway. A desperate attempt to get the magic trunk to give him just a small dose of poison hemlock failed, as well.  
  
With time, Kurt felt himself becoming almost numb to his predicament. He had become pregnant by a magical creature, and all he could do was sit in his cabin and watch the leaves gradually desert the trees.  
  
Although Kurt had little experience with pregnancy before he’d been kidnapped, he knew that his was proceeding faster than was usual. One of the books on the shelves had proved invaluable, though, suggesting that the pregnancies of some magical beings progressed at a rate more like the animal they resembled than a normal human’s, so Kurt was at least saved one source of worry. By the time the first early snow fell, he could feel the occasional kick from the inside and he was already so hugely swollen that it was becoming difficult to maneuver. He was spending more and more time in bed, not in despair, as he had in the beginning, but simply because he felt so constantly exhausted. He supposed that growing another being inside one’s body was hard enough work to excuse being a lie-abed for a while.  
  
He was up and about, though, when Sebastian unexpectedly walked through the door again.

“What are you doing here?” Kurt hissed before Sebastian could make any sort of remark. He tried to take a threatening step forward, but his new bulk made it difficult to feel intimidating, regardless of his rage towards the new arrival.  
  
Sebastian quirked an eyebrow and spent a long second looking Kurt over, lingering on his swollen belly. “God, you look like a whale already,” he drawled, sounding almost impressed. “I knew satyrs worked fast, but…” He whistled.  
  
If glares could kill, Kurt would have been left looking at a smoldering pile of ashes. Somehow, though, he couldn’t come up with anything new to say, months with no company but his own voice leaving his usually-rapier wit unsharpened for once. Still, he tried again, “Why did you come here, Sebastian?”  
  
Sebastian rocked back on his heels and shrugged unconcernedly, still staring at Kurt’s belly. “Oh, I mostly wanted to gloat,” he offered. “While the castle and Blaine mourn you as dead, you’re here being the breeding bitch for any creature in the woods that’s interested. Meanwhile, I’ve been offering a sympathetic ear to the prince, so don’t be surprised if the next time I visit, it’s as the prince’s _new_ fiancée…”  
  
Kurt’s vision went red at that and the next thing he knew, he was being held back by a shocked, struggling Sebastian. “Don’t you dare even speak about –“ Kurt was growling, and, “Blaine will never want a cheap trollop like you, you insufferable little _weasel_ –“  
  
“Jesus!” Sebastian barked in alarm, fighting to hold Kurt at arm’s length from him while avoiding the hands clawing for his eyes. One of Sebastian’s hands dropped to his pocket and the opening almost let Kurt get a good grip on that greasy, badly-groomed hair, when something broke at his feet and a cloud of smoke puffed up.  
  
Too startled to hold his breath, Kurt inhaled some of the haze and immediately found himself swaying on his feet, forced to stumble back to the bed so he wouldn’t collapse on the floor.  
  
Sebastian, breathing hard and disheveled, seemed unaffected by the smoke as it cleared. He tugged his tunic straight and tried to look aloof again. “Don’t try to mess with real men, princess,” he managed, “you’ll just embarrass yourself.”  
  
Even swaying under the effects of the smoke, Kurt still couldn’t help shooting back, “I’ll keep that in mind if I see any, then.”  
  
An ugly sneer broke out across Sebastian’s face and he opened his mouth to retort, but it was the last thing Kurt was aware of before he blacked out.

When Kurt stirred again, the sun had set and the room was dark around him. He blinked against the darkness a few times, seeing only faint outlines of the furniture by moonlight, with no sign of Sebastian. Something was wrong, though. He could feel the air against his skin, which could only mean his shirt had been taken, and there was an odd weight on his chest.  
  
Kurt decided to investigate just as soon as he sat up, but the very act of rising to a sitting position provided more answers than he’d wanted. There was a strange flopping feeling on his chest, and a new soreness in his nipples. Eyes widening, Kurt let a trembling hand lift up to his chest, and he encountered flesh far sooner in his hand’s journey than he should have. It was also far softer and more malleable than his pectorals had ever been. Steeling himself, Kurt looked down. He had breasts.  
  
Of all the things he’d expected, that had certainly not been one of them. Hysteria rose up as he continued staring down in the moonlit darkness, able to make out the faint outlines of reasonably sized breasts rising and falling with his panicked breaths. His nipples had even changed, he was able to note absently, looking larger and darker where they adorned his new… additions.  
  
Kurt tried lowering himself to lie down again, in the faint hopes that they would be gone when he tried getting up again, but the uncomfortable new feeling of his breasts settling and flattening down once he was on his back did nothing to help. Alone with no one but the unborn child turning restlessly inside to hear him, Kurt let himself whimper.  
  
He had less than a week to get used to his body’s changes before the next upheaval.  
  
One afternoon, when he was ripping the seams of a delicate tunic in preparation to let it out again, he felt a sudden lurch in his stomach and a trickle of fluid leaked from between his legs. It steadily soaked the crotch of his trousers as he sat there, stunned. He’d read many of the cabin’s books out of boredom and morbid curiosity, so he quickly realized what was about to happen. A sense of panic gripped him all the same, though. He’d purposely avoided the thought before, but… how was he going to handle this on his own?  
  
Thankfully, he wasn’t alone, after all. While he was hauling himself to his feet, he failed to notice the entrance of three tiny visitors, but once he was upright and beginning to pace around the cabin, he saw them – three fairies, tiny winged people no bigger than his hand, surrounded by a soft glow.  
  
“What are you doing here?” He started to blurt out, before a sudden spasm racked his body and changed his mind. Instead, he pleaded, “Help me, please, I think I’m giving birth and I don’t know what to do!” Tears pricked at his eyes as another convulsion roiled his stomach and sent aches through his lower body.  
  
The faeries didn’t say anything, but they did sweep into action. One fetched a sheet from a trunk and laid it out on the floor, while the other two fluttered around, urging Kurt out of his soaked clothing and guiding him into position on the sheet.

The entire process was mercifully quick, although Kurt was sure his screams could be heard for miles. In the end, he was left holding a soaking wet newborn with little goat’s legs and nubby horns coming from his head, his tiny goat’s ears twitching slowly.  
  
One faerie fetched a basin of water and a rag, urging him to clean the little satyr, another did something out of sight to make the afterbirth and umbilical cord disappear, and the third laid a thick blanket over the rocking chair. Together the three faeries urged the exhausted Kurt up and into the rocking chair’s soft embrace. He was sure that magic was assisting them somehow, because there was no way he could have moved on his own power.  
  
When the baby satyr opened his mouth and let out a wail like a cross between a newborn’s cry and a goat’s call, all three faeries vanished. Kurt was too tired to do more than briefly mourn the disappearance of a possible source of help, or to care about the foreign sensation when the baby finally began rooting around until he found his nipple and began to suckle. The pull of milk leaving his sore breasts was like nothing he’d felt before, but he only winced a little at the initial pinching bite and cradled the baby to his chest.  
  
Part of him wanted to hate the child that had been forced into his body, the reason he’d been taken from everything he knew and loved, but it had never been in him to hate easily, and the child, satyr or not, was still enchanting in the way of all newborns to their parents. And so Kurt resigned himself to altering his tunics for easy access to his breasts and let himself give a little exhausted smile to the child in his arms. He resolutely focused on how to care for the baby for now, because he had no idea what would come next.


	2. Chapter 2

There was little peace to be had with a newborn satyr around. Kurt found himself waking to wails at all hours of the night and devoting his days to feeding the baby and keeping him clean. Still, Kurt couldn’t help falling for the little creature, and he was strangely glad for the purpose it gave his days in the cabin. He had sung to himself during the interminable days of his pregnancy, but the songs he sang for the baby were far less melancholy, and after a short breakdown brought on by the memories, he was even able to sing the songs his parents had hummed for him in his childhood.  
  
He named the baby Devon. The little satyr already had a head of thick soft curls, and looking at them reminded Kurt so strongly of his prince sometimes that tears came to his eyes. Devon didn’t notice his father’s distress, but the smallest things he did were enough to make Kurt wipe his tears and smile again.  
  
Kurt’s stomach gradually returned to its previous shape, although pale stretch marks remained, no matter how much ointment he rubbed on them. His breasts remained, as well, and Kurt slowly forgot to be horrified by their presence as the days went on – instead, he found himself focusing on how they ached almost constantly, either with fullness when Devon wasn’t feeding, or with the pinches and pulls on his nipples when he was.  
  
Things were almost beginning to seem peaceful as Kurt settled into a new routine with Devon, which, of course, was when the next trauma arrived.  
  
If he’d been capable of deep emotions through the haze in which he awoke, Kurt would have been struck by terror and rage when he found himself rising from bed, discarding his nightshirt, and leaving the cabin through the mysteriously unlocked door. Devon slept on peacefully, and Kurt had just enough ability to think to be grateful for that, and to hope the child wouldn’t awake to an empty cabin.  
  
The clearing in midwinter looked very different than it had the first time, but Kurt still recognized the large oak just off-center in it and the stream to the side, now iced over. Oddly, although the oak tree was just as leafless as its neighbors and the ground was hard with frost, the air in the clearing was warmer than the snow outside it suggested, and the ground within was free of the white blanket.  
  
Kurt felt the haze on his mind lift, but he had little time to react before a muffled thumping reached him. He hadn’t even turned around when the sound became clearer and he had a wild thought for a second that there was a knight on horseback approaching and he was saved. When he turned, though, his vague hopes were crushed. Another strange creature had already reached him, with the body of a horse combined with the upper body of a man.

The centaur was fast. Kurt didn’t have a chance to even speak before the centaur reached down to grab his shoulders and push him to the ground. Kurt hit the frozen grass with a huff as the breath was forced out of him, and the centaur followed him down, his horse legs folding into a kneel so that he could reach Kurt easily.  
  
Kurt tried to protest, but the centaur ignored him completely, apparently being far more stoic than the satyr had been. Without a word, the centaur had Kurt pushed down on his front and was wrapping vines around his wrist, then the ankle of the same side, and repeating the process on Kurt’s other limbs. Within moments, Kurt found himself securely bound with the vines, arms pulled back underneath him so that his left wrist was tied to the left ankle and the right wrist to the right ankle. The position left him folded up with his face in the dirt and his rear end forced into the air. As if that wasn’t enough, there was a quick rustling sound and then Kurt’s ankles were being bound to either end of a long stick, practically a branch, longer than Kurt’s own arm. As a result, Kurt’s limbs were forced to stretch apart from each other, leaving his folded legs spread wide and exposing him thoroughly to the cold night air.  
  
There was a second of stillness and Kurt finally had a chance to catch his breath and desperately gasp out, “Please, please don’t do this!”  
  
He was ignored, though, and a hand settled on one of his hips. Kurt had a moment of absolute terror as he realized the implications of a horse’s lower body, and imagined what would happen to him on being breached by a cock of that size. Thankfully, though, the first thing to touch him was a slick finger, which slid into his clenching body with only some resistance. Kurt tried to tense up and force the intrusion out, but it did no good, and the finger only pumped into him with more force.  
  
The centaur made a thoughtful noise from behind him, and Kurt tried again, “Please, you don’t have to do this, please let me go!”  
As before, though, the centaur paid as little heed to his words as if he’d been an animal making noises of complaint, and simply forced a second finger inside of Kurt.  
  
Kurt didn’t know what the centaur’s thick fingers were slippery with, but he found himself almost grateful to it when the third finger was worked in alongside the other two. He felt himself stretched taut around the pumping digits, wider than he’d ever been except during Devon’s birth.

He could feel the width of the intrusion increasing every time the fingers pushed into him to their base, and the centaur kept twisting his wrist around so that the angle changed and Kurt’s body was stretched in every possible direction.  
  
Kurt couldn’t keep track of time as he was jostled and worked open, so he had no idea for how long the three fingers had been thrusting into him. His mind thankfully began to drift away from the moment and from the methodical spreading of his body, so that even his face scraping repeatedly against the frozen dirt lost its meaning, as did the frozen air on his skin or the centaur’s too-warm hand gripping his hip.  
  
When the fourth finger slid in alongside the others, though, Kurt was jolted out of his merciful daze. The pinch as his skin was stretched taut around the new width reminded him that his body had actually grown accustomed to the previous intrusions, and he tried not to think about why he needed to be so loose that almost an entire hand-span was necessary to prepare him.  
  
The four fingers continued to work inside of him, and just when Kurt felt himself beginning to finally relax around them, he was suddenly being spread even wider. Kurt’s eyes went wide with shock and he could hear himself gasping for breath as his body was forced to accommodate the centaur’s thumb, as well, all of the fingers and thumb pushing into him to the knuckle. It was so much that Kurt felt his body tense all over, which only made the intrusion hurt more.  
  
The centaur didn’t seem to care that Kurt’s eyes were growing moist from the pain or that his legs were twitching against their bonds, and he only gripped Kurt’s hip harder to hold him in place while the other hand continued to pump in and out. Soon enough, Kurt found that he was too exhausted to even tense his muscles anymore, and the thrusts became easier to take.  
  
Kurt was so drained that he couldn’t even do more than gasp wetly when one of the centaur’s thrusts just… kept going, so that the thick rim of the centaur’s knuckles popped through his body’s resistance and slipped inside him. Miserably, Kurt realized that the centaur had managed to put his entire hand into his body, and it was such a strange, invasive feeling of being filled that Kurt found himself drifting a little mentally again, staring blankly across the clearing’s floor as his body was slowly forced to get used to accepting the centaur’s hand to the wrist over and over.

When the hand withdrew, Kurt barely registered its absence. He so thoroughly expected it to return again that he was only startled out of his daze by the sudden feeling of cold air on his hip where the centaur’s other hand had rested.  
  
Kurt blinked and tried to force his muddled mind to cooperate, but he only grasped what was going on a second later, when movement in his peripheral vision alerted him that the centaur had stood up and was now taking a couple of steps forward. In a moment, he was standing over Kurt’s bound body, his front legs well in front of Kurt’s head and his back legs just behind Kurt’s feet and hands, close enough that Kurt could touch the hooves with his fingertips, if he wanted. The night seemed even darker with the horse body above him blocking out the stars, and soon it was darker still as the centaur descended without warning, dropping to kneel down over Kurt.  
  
Kurt made a startled noise without meaning to, the breath whooshing out of him as his body was suddenly covered by the massive creature, his belly pressing Kurt’s hips down and his body further into the ground.  
  
Kurt knew, intellectually, what the centaur was trying to do, but the fear really set in when he felt him shifting around on top of him, and something huge and blunt and damp suddenly brushing at where he was open and exposed.  
  
The feeling sent Kurt into real panic and he thrashed in his bounds as much as he could, his ankles and wrists quickly becoming raw from the vines sawing at them and his struggles even jostling the horse body above him. He distantly heard an annoyed huff from far above, but then the head of the centaur’s cock was following the movement of his hips and managed to brush right between his legs, once, twice, and then there was a jolt of the centaur’s hindquarters and it had seated itself in Kurt’s body.The breach felt huge, so large that Kurt could scarcely believe he’d been prepared for it at all, though he knew he’d just taken a man’s entire hand. It pushed and forced its way in, making Kurt’s body yield to it and be invaded. It hurt. Still, Kurt could feel his body giving way and stretching around the centaur’s cock, and after a few slow back-and-forths, it began pumping into him in earnest.   
  
Kurt knew that the entire thing wasn’t inside him from how far behind him the centaur’s back end was, but there was enough hard flesh being crammed inside him that he imagined he could feel it deep in his guts. He couldn’t even struggle anymore, fixed in place by the weight above him and the cock impaling him over and over.   
  
As the thrusting went on, Kurt still felt stretched beyond human limits, but there was a strange feeling underneath all of it, and he groaned in misery when he realized that his body was reacting to the rhythmic grinding inside of him, and the slide of the centaur’s cock was becoming easier, slicker. It seemed to go on forever, and Kurt tried fruitlessly to ignore the almost-itch between his legs just above where he was being invaded, his hips beginning to wriggle without his permission, backing up onto the intruder.  
  
Thankfully, the centaur made no comment and didn’t respond in any way, neither speeding up nor slowing down on Kurt’s behalf. 

The centaur’s thrusting went on and on, and Kurt tried to distract himself by wondering if that was normal for a horse, or for a man, since his own experience so far had only been with one other magical creature. He was finally broken from his thoughts by the centaur’s cock moving faster and rougher, the sensation thankfully distracting him from the aching shameful arousal between his legs. Then the centaur was pushing his cock even deeper into Kurt than before, so deep that it sent a sharp pain through him unlike anything he’d encountered yet, and Kurt could feel it spasm inside him. The centaur groaned and his entire body shivered all around Kurt’s prone form.  
  
Then the centaur grunted and stood up, his cock dragging out of Kurt as he did. Kurt could feel some wetness drip down onto the slope of his back, and some trickle from between his legs and down his thighs.  
  
Kurt heard the centaur sigh and crack his back, the horse legs tensing a little around Kurt as he did so. The centaur’s legs began to move, stepping backward until he was able to kneel down again behind Kurt.  
  
Kurt half-expected to be freed, but instead, he got fingers tracing along where he was swollen and still gaping open, then plunging inside. After taking the centaur’s cock, the fingers barely registered, but Kurt still hissed in a breath in surprise. The centaur took a few moments to prod around inside him, delving deeper than was comfortable, but he was apparently satisfied with what he found and withdrew.  
  
With that done, the centaur’s hands were ungentle but efficient in undoing the knots, and soon Kurt’s limbs were free again. Kurt was barely able to move, but he immediately rolled over to his side, then tried to sit up. His lower body protested the movement with a variety of sharp aches, but it didn’t matter because the centaur was already leaving, pausing to speak the words that made Kurt’s mind fog over and his body rise to stand without Kurt’s input.  
  
Kurt’s feet led him back out of the clearing and through the snow, back to the cabin. He didn’t remember getting into bed, but he woke up there the next morning to Devon’s hungry cry, still bare and sore and covered in crusting fluids.

It took a few days before Kurt could walk without a limp again, and it was a few days after that before the twinges of pain between his legs faded. For Devon’s sake, Kurt tried to go on as if nothing was wrong, but it seemed that Devon could sense the change in his father’s mood, and cried more often than usual, wanting to be held constantly. Although the sleepless nights due to nightmares – memories – of being helpless and invaded made Kurt tired and gave him headaches that were made worse by Devon’s wails, he welcomed the contact with his tiny satyr, and sat for hours in the rocking chair just humming to the baby in his arms.  
  
One day, Kurt had just gotten Devon down to take a nap when the sound of the doorknob twisting creaked through the cabin.   
  
Kurt whirled around, unsure of what to expect but ready to fight to defend himself and his baby, but the figure that poked his head through the door took the breath out of Kurt like a punch.  
  
“Blaine?” he breathed disbelievingly.  
  
“Kurt?” the prince said, then his eyes lit on him and he smiled, the same familiar toothy grin that Kurt had fallen in love with. Blaine hurried inside and shut the door behind him. “Kurt! You are here!”  
  
“Blaine!” Kurt said again, barely daring to believe it, and he had crossed the room before he knew it, reaching out to embrace his prince.  
  
But Blaine stepped to the side, dodging the hug. “Wow,” Blaine said, his brow furrowing as he looked down at Kurt’s chest, covered but largely visible through the gauzy white fabric of his tunic. “What _happened_ to you?”  
  
Kurt stared at Blaine, confused by the apparent rejection but desperately needing to drink in the sight of his lost love. “I was cursed – Sebastian… Sebastian had something to do with it, I don’t know how, but…” He broke off, unsure how to describe what had been done to him since his kidnapping.  
  
Blaine was giving him a look of growing disgust, though, shifting his gaze from Kurt’s breasts to his face. “I guess you finally turned into a woman after all. I knew it was just a matter of time.”  
  
Kurt blinked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and his head still felt like it was buzzing from the shock of Blaine’s arrival. “What?”  
  
“I said: you finally turned into a woman.” Blaine was leaning away from him and crossing his arms. “It looks like I made the wrong choice after all. To think I waited for you when Sebastian was an option…”  
  
Kurt just stared, his arms limp at his sides and each breath catching in his throat.  
  
Blaine airily continued, “I guess I’ll be going back to my castle, then. Have fun here with whatever you’ve been doing, now that I don’t have to care anymore.”

Kurt shook his head, stepped back and took a deep breath. “You’re not Blaine,” he said firmly.  
  
“How can you say that?” the Blaine-lookalike gasped, or pretended to. “Of course it’s me, I just finally came to my senses about you.”  
  
Kurt narrowed his eyes at the imposter, more sure than ever that it wasn’t his Blaine. When Kurt had seen Blaine gasp in offense at something, it was always in jest, with an obvious twinkle in his eye. The eyes of this stranger were shining, but with malevolent glee instead of sweet impishness. “How is Sebastian doing this…” he murmured aloud instead of responding, scrutinizing the false Blaine.  
  
With a roll of his eyes, the impostor waved a hand and then suddenly _blurred_ in a strange way that made Kurt’s stomach churn to look at it. Kurt had to look away, but when he looked back, the figure standing there was taller and leaner, with a very familiar face.  
  
“I knew it,” Kurt hissed at the smirking Sebastian.  
  
“Oh, I had you going for a few minutes there,” Sebastian claimed, looking smug. “You should have seen your face!”  
  
“How did you do that?” Kurt demanded. “What _are_ you?”  
  
“Handsome and far more attractive to the prince than you could be,” Sebastian supplied. “I’m also a very good magician.”  
  
Kurt lifted an eyebrow. He hoped that the emotional upheavals of the last minutes hadn’t shown on his face, but his scorn for Sebastian was deep enough that he could at least focus solely on that for now. “Apparently not that good, given that you’re still single,” he said with a mock-sympathetic pout.  
  
Sebastian’s ever-present smirk turned into a scowl. “Not for long. Blaine won’t be able to resist me forever, especially not once he realizes you’re gone for good.”  
  
Kurt’s heart leapt at the implication that Blaine was still waiting for him, but instead of reacting visibly, he instead shot back, “So you can’t actually control people, then. That is a pity for you, since you certainly aren’t attracting anyone with your _charming_ personality or your horse teeth.”  
  
“And you won’t be attracting _Blaine_ anymore if he ever realizes I basically made you into a woman,” Sebastian said airily, unable to completely smooth the ugly scowl off his face.  
  
“You made me-“ Kurt started, sputtering a little, before beginning again, “So it was you. I assumed-“  
  
Sebastian cut him off. “Please, I could make you look like anything I wanted, but I figured your face is punishment enough as it is. Besides, I heard that most of the forest creatures prefer maidens, anyway, so there was no need to change it.”  
  
Kurt furrowed his brow in mock-confusion. “Your issues with women aside, if you can look however you want, then why are you still so unfortunate-looking?” Sebastian glared at him, but before he could respond, Kurt continued, “And who did you have to convince to make this cabin for you? It doesn’t sound like you could do that yourself.”

“Oh, that was your new beaux,” Sebastian answered, beginning to smirk again. “They wanted someone to carry their runts, and I told them I had the perfect candidate. They supplied the magic and the cottage, and I anchored it for them and… got you ready,” here Sebastian gestured at Kurt’s body with a laugh, “and delivered you to them.”  
  
Kurt was shaking his head. He needed answers, if only because they might help him to get out of here. “How did you get me out of the castle?”  
  
It looked like Sebastian was enjoying the chance to boast about his exploits, so he was grinning when he said, “I can turn into anything, remember? That includes a bird big enough to fly your pasty little body out a window and into the woods. No one at the castle knows about me, so I’m still free to lend a helping shoulder – or anything else – to the prince. No one has any reason to suspect me,” Sebastian boasted, then paused and maliciously added, “And no one has a clue of how to find you.”  
  
“Okay, but how did you ‘anchor’ the magic?” Kurt asked, refusing to give Sebastian the satisfaction of the reaction he clearly wanted.  
  
Sebastian just waved a hand, though, and said, “That’s the boring part. Besides, getting to see you knocked up and miserable is always fun, but I can only take so many minutes of your voice, and those minutes are up now.” Without even a goodbye, Sebastian went to the door and opened it.  
  
Kurt had been readying himself as soon as Sebastian turned for the door, though, and he rushed at it as well, grappling with Sebastian immediately in an attempt to wrench the door farther open. Kurt didn’t want to leave Devon behind, but if he could get out, he could get help and come back to rescue him, and this might be his last chance.  
  
Kurt had his fingers gripping the door and was beginning to slowly but surely force it open, but suddenly one of Sebastian’s hands disappeared from where it had been pulling Kurt’s hair. A sharp pain made Kurt’s stomach lurch and forced him to involuntarily remove his hands from the door, clutching at the nipple Sebastian had cruelly twisted. In that second of distraction, Sebastian was out the door and it was slamming shut.  
  
Kurt stared at the closed door for a moment before slamming his fist on it in anguish. He was trapped again.

The months passed slowly, marked by the thawing of the world outside the windows and the slow growth of Kurt’s belly. By the time tiny green leaves turned the forest canopy into a kind of mist, Kurt was still just barely showing, and his reading on centaurs indicated it would be a very long time until he was ready to give birth.  
  
Devon continued to grow quickly, and Kurt took to keeping a journal of all the funny things he did, trying not to let the fear of the satyrs taking the baby taint their time together. Kurt knew it was unusual that he was still able to breastfeed Devon while a second child grew inside him, but he assumed it was some side effect of the magic used on him, and he came to enjoy the sweet intimacy of feeding times, even though he couldn’t forget that the changes to his body had been Sebastian’s doing.  
  
The spring and summer passed, and Kurt found that he was growing large enough for movement to be cumbersome again. He still kept his journal and talked to Devon and read when he could, but the summer sunlight outside the windows threw him into melancholy every now and then, as it taunted him with what he couldn’t have, and couldn’t share with Devon.  
  
As autumn came, it became increasingly difficult for Kurt to set Devon on his lap or cradle him to his chest, so he had to take to doing feedings while lying down on his side, with Devon cradled in his arms alongside him. Kurt was already swollen as large as he’d been just before Devon was born, and his reading on horses indicated that he still had a few months to wait. Remembering the size of the centaur who’d taken him, Kurt couldn’t help the occasional shiver of fear at what the birth of even a baby centaur would be like. Devon fussed a little when Kurt could no longer attend his needs as quickly as before, but Kurt did his best to keep up, even when his ankles and back were so sore he almost felt like crying. Part of Kurt looked forward to giving birth, if only to have it over with, but the rest of him was terrified.  
  
It turned out that Kurt had been right to be fearful.

The first snows were falling when Kurt felt his body begin to clench up and shudder warningly. He barely had time to gasp when his water broke before the three fairies were back again, ready to guide him through it. If Devon’s birth had been agonizing, this one was _devastating_. It took hours until the process was done, and when it was, the faeries didn’t even attempt to move Kurt to the armchair. Instead, they left him to lay back on the sheet on the floor instead, tears streaming down his cheeks and blood pooling beneath him. Somehow, almost certainly by faerie magic, Devon had slept through the ordeal, including his father’s broken screams, and Kurt had been fuzzily thankful for that in his brief moments of lucid thought.   
  
There was a moment of stillness in the cabin while Kurt lay exhausted on the sheet and the fairies quickly did something between his legs to stanch the bleeding, but it was broken by the newborn centaur’s wail and, as before, the faeries vanished at the sound. There was no way at all Kurt could push himself to a sitting position just yet, so he rolled onto his side with a great effort and gathered the baby to himself, gently soothing it despite the wetness on his own cheeks.  
  
The tiny centaur was a girl, Kurt noticed, with no hair at all on her head but a soft coat of wet chestnut fur on her horse half. His tears were forgotten as he stroked her face with a cautious fingertip and stared at the little creature, feeling a warmth blooming in him like it had for Devon, and he knew he was already in love with this little one, too, despite the pain of her conception and birth. He didn’t think he would be walking any time soon, but even the agony in his lower half was overwhelmed for the moment by the strength of his feelings for his new daughter. “Elizabeth,” he murmured out loud, his voice almost worn completely away from the earlier screaming. “Hi, little girl. Hi, Elizabeth…”  
  
Living with two babies turned out to be more of a challenge than Kurt had anticipated, but it was less of a jarring change than Devon’s arrival had been at first. Devon seemed unsure about the new arrival for the first day or two, but took to her very quickly after that, and Kurt was glad he could let the two of them snuggle together in the crib without problems. With her horse half, the newborn Elizabeth was already slightly bigger than Devon, but she still stared at her half-brother with the look of awe she also aimed at Kurt from the second her eyes opened. The little centaur was incredibly fast to learn to walk, wobbling to her hooves and taking shaky steps almost as soon as Kurt was healed enough to do the same.  
  
Altogether, it was an interesting, somehow charming time in the little cabin for the three of them, although Kurt dreaded the day he was somehow deemed “healed enough” to be bred again.


	3. Chapter 3

Due to Elizabeth’s size and the rough pregnancy, he healed slower than before, so it was at least three months later, just at the start of spring, when Kurt found himself rising in the middle of the night again.  
  
This time, there was no one in the clearing when Kurt arrived, but the fog from his mind had hardly cleared when a distant splashing sound reached his ears. Kurt steeled himself and looked down the stream in the direction of the rapidly-approaching sounds. A dark bulk was swimming upstream, the moonlight shining off its slick hide. Kurt could only take a startled step back when a giant bull seal heaved himself up out of the water and somehow _rippled_ , and then there was a naked man standing on the bank, a sealskin draped over his shoulders.  
  
“Ah, I see I was just in time,” the selkie said, letting the sealskin drop from his shoulders onto the grass. “There was a squall coming in as I left the sea, and it slowed my departure. I would have been so disappointed to miss this night,” he said with a rueful smile.  
  
“Please,” Kurt tried, although it had never helped before. “Please help me, I don’t want to be here and I’ve been cursed. Just help me escape – and my babies, I can’t abandon them – I’ll do anything you want, the prince is my fiancée…”  
  
As he’d half-expected, though, the selkie just shook his head with a quiet chuckle and walked closer, ignoring his words.  
  
“My, but you’re lovely,” the selkie said, looking Kurt’s naked body up and down, lingering between his thighs and neck. “I’d hardly call that a curse, with those glorious tits of yours.”  
Somehow Kurt found himself still able to blush, and he could feel his face going scarlet and heated. He fruitlessly tried to cover his body with his hands and looked away from the selkie’s gaze, trying to fix his mind somewhere out of the clearing.  
  
It became more difficult when the selkie’s hands landed on his body, though.  
  
Somehow, the selkie’s hands still felt damp no matter how long he ran them over Kurt’s unresponsive body, and Kurt could see in his peripheral vision that there were wet spots in the grass wherever the selkie’s feet had landed. The smell of sea salt was heavy in the air.  
  
Kurt wondered for a split-second if there was some magic that kept him from resisting as the selkie easily pried Kurt’s hands away from where they were covering him. The thought was quickly chased away by the selkie’s hands landing on his chest, though, and Kurt could feel his cheeks growing even more heated at the reverent way the selkie cupped and stroked his breasts.  
  
“Please,” he tried to grit out again, but the selkie just lowered his head and started to mouth at the skin of Kurt’s neck. It was hot and damp, and the selkie wasted no time in caressing Kurt’s neck with lips and tongue, the scrape of teeth coming so subtly Kurt would have been unsure he’d felt it, if it hadn’t been for the quick rush of heat to his belly. At the same time, the selkie was thoroughly enjoying Kurt’s breasts, squeezing them lightly, one in each hand, then rubbing his thumbs against the nipples.

Kurt had to hold back an involuntary whine at the ministrations, but it appeared he’d been unsuccessful, since the selkie pulled away from his neck long enough to shoot him a roguish grin. “See?” the selkie said, “not a curse after all.”  
  
Kurt bit his lip against the urge to argue – he very much wanted to, but nothing else about this night was within his control, and he might as well not give the creature the satisfaction of his words.  
  
The selkie happily returned to mouthing at his neck, one of his hands sliding down Kurt’s body to cup his hip and pull him flush against the selkie’s body. The other hand was still groping at Kurt’s breast, massaging it harder and then tugging lightly at the nipple.  
  
Kurt’s blush, which had subsided some, came flaring back when he recognized the familiar sensation in his breast and the selkie paused, then pulled his head away from Kurt’s neck to look down. The selkie laughed. “I see you’re a proper mother to your bairns then, aren’t you?”  
  
Kurt gritted his teeth as the selkie raised his hand to his lips and licked off the droplet of milk that had dripped onto his fingers.  
  
“You’ll carry and nurse my pup so well,” the selkie was muttering as he dropped his hand back down, past Kurt’s chest and down to the gap between his legs, “wish I could see you full and round with it, I would keep you satisfied every day…”  
  
The selkie’s hand dipped down and just cupped Kurt there as he spoke, but just as Kurt was beginning to be able to tune him out, the hand drew back a little and fingers slid into the place he parted and began stroking softly.  
  
Kurt couldn’t help the soft pants escaping his mouth as the selkie continued his ministrations, sliding the other hand back from his hip to rest on his ass, kneading the soft flesh there in time with his fingers’ stroking. Kurt tried to clench his fists at his sides and dig his nails into his palms to distract himself, but he could feel his knees going weak all the same, especially when the selkie began mouthing just under his jaw.

The selkie’s fingers seemed to be seeking something as they rubbed and circled where Kurt felt himself growing damp, then they made a little twist to the front and landed on the tiny nub that was there. Kurt gasped at the contact, and again when the selkie groaned in triumph and began to rub harder at that spot. The contact was regular and rhythmic, and Kurt could feel his legs beginning to shake as it went on relentlessly, his stomach tightening as he was driven toward some peak.  
  
The selkie moaned again as Kurt’s panted breaths landed in his dark salt-scented hair, and his hand abandoned Kurt’s ass in favor of one of his breasts, fondling it none too gently.  
  
Kurt tried to think about something, anything else, but coherent thought was quickly dissolving, especially when the selkie pinched his nipple between finger and thumb and began rolling and tugging it, sending little jolts between his legs. The selkie’s other hand was still working over the little nub between Kurt’s legs, and the heat continued to build in Kurt’s belly until it exploded without warning in a shuddery burst that enflamed Kurt’s entire body.   
  
Kurt was barely aware of the selkie reaching around him to hold his weight when his knees gave out. He slumped helplessly against the selkie’s hard warm body, arms going up automatically to shakily clutch the selkie’s shoulders for balance as the electric feeling continued to consume him.  
  
When his hearing returned, the selkie was murmuring praises while holding him up with one arm, the other hand groping again at Kurt’s ass. “So responsive,” the selkie was saying, “getting so wet, so hot. You’ll take my seed so well…”  
  
Although his face was already suffused with blood, Kurt felt himself flush even deeper and he looked away from the selkie’s face, growing so ashamed he was almost sick with it. He was suddenly aware that his breast and one of the selkie’s hands were wet with milk, as well as with the salt water that seemed to constantly soak the selkie’s extremities.  
  
The selkie didn’t seem to care about Kurt’s sudden stiffness, and lowered him to the ground, turning him so that Kurt was forced onto all fours like an animal. Before Kurt could try to scramble away or turn over and face his assailant, the selkie was plastered to his back, arms around his waist and stiff hot cock poking at the back of Kurt’s thighs.  
  
Kurt shuddered at the feeling, but he couldn’t make himself try to wrestle himself free, and the selkie quickly reached back with one hand to position himself, the head of his cock poking right at the place Kurt was aching and slick. With a little push, the selkie sunk inside.

Kurt tried not to gasp at the sensation of being stretched so suddenly, but it didn’t hurt even as much as the first time he’d been penetrated, and somehow it felt more like scratching an itch than being ripped open as it rubbed against his insides. The selkie groaned into the back of Kurt’s neck and one of his hands reached up to grasp one of Kurt’s dangling breasts again, cupping it so the nipple fell between his middle and pointer finger, and squeezed hard. Somehow, instead of hurting, the slight discomfort intensified the almost-itch between Kurt’s legs around the selkie’s cock, and it only grew stronger as the selkie began to drag his cock in and out, pumping slowly as his hand rhythmically squeezed and massaged Kurt’s breast.  
  
“Your breasts,” the selkie groaned, “so soft and hot, you’ll be such a good mother to my pup, yes, wish I could see you nursing him with those beautiful tits, would suck them myself while I fuck you… Ah, yes, so hot…”  
  
Kurt moaned in mingled pleasure and humiliation at the selkie’s words and ministrations, and the selkie squeezed his breast harder on hearing him. The selkie also began moving faster, his hips moving rapidly to pump into Kurt, stretching him over and over again.  
  
The tingling heat was building even more inside Kurt then, and he whimpered as he felt himself coming close to the edge, especially as the selkie sped up even more, groping his breast harshly and panting hot and damp across Kurt’s neck. The sensation built and built as the selkie pumped inside him, then crested with a final squeeze to his nipple, and Kurt heard himself giving a strangled cry as his vision whited out and his whole body shuddered and shook with pleasure.   
  
The selkie continued thrusting into him through it, and as soon as Kurt was not in danger of collapsing to the ground, he brought up his arm that had been around Kurt’s waist and used that hand to grasp Kurt’s other breast, treating it the same as the first.  
  
“Ah, your _tits_ ,” the selkie moaned, squeezing both at the same time and causing Kurt to gasp in humiliation as he felt milk squirting from his nipples from the movement. Kurt couldn’t tell if the selkie noticed or not, but he seemed to speed up regardless, and it wasn’t long before Kurt felt himself nearing the edge again.  
  
This time, when he felt his body seize up, the selkie grunted behind him and stiffened as well, and Kurt was vaguely aware through the trembling of his own body that the selkie’s cock was spasming inside him, the selkie’s hips twitching as if to force himself in even deeper.  
  
The selkie slumped down and for a moment Kurt was forced to bear both of their weights on his trembling hands and knees. Soon, though, the selkie was groaning and lifting himself up, sweaty skin sticking to Kurt’s a little as he pulled himself up to a kneeling position.  
  
Kurt stayed where he was, panting and staring at the ground below him, waiting for the selkie to leave and say the words that would force him to return to the cabin.

Instead, though, the selkie stood up and reached down, hoisting Kurt up to stand on wobbly feet. Kurt stared at the selkie in fearful confusion, unsure what was to come next, hands itching to cover himself. He could feel some of the selkie’s seed trickling out and down his thighs.  
  
The selkie smiled at him warmly and reached out with both hands to cup Kurt’s breasts. He leaned in and closed his mouth around a nipple before Kurt could react and _sucked_ , causing Kurt to hiss in surprise as a squirt of milk left him and was swallowed up by the selkie. “Mm,” the selkie hummed as he pulled back, giving Kurt’s breasts one last squeeze. “Like I said, glorious.”   
  
With seeming reluctance, the selkie let go of Kurt’s chest and stepped backwards, speaking the familiar strange words that made Kurt’s mind go blissfully blank and his body turn to go back out of the clearing. Kurt vaguely heard the selkie’s steps as he went to get his sealskin and the splash as he dove into the stream, but Kurt couldn’t make sense of them in his fogged state, and his steps carried him mindlessly back to the cabin.  
  
Kurt woke up the next morning feeling more ashamed than he had in a long time. He knew that nothing about the previous night had been his fault, but he felt incredibly dirty all the same, as if the slick touch of the selkie lingered on his skin. He wished he could take a long, thorough bath and scour his skin until it was raw, but he had to settle for a quick wash with a rag, because Devon and Elizabeth woke soon after him with hungry cries.   
  
Kurt did his best to ignore the memories invading his mind when Devon first grasped a breast, and arranged his children on either side of him as he did every morning, Elizabeth’s hooves digging into his thighs as she tried to clamber closer on his lap. Once the morning feeding was done, Kurt ignored his own grumbling belly to finally take the bath he needed, holding back his sobs until he could bury them in his pillow that night.  
  
Once enough days had passed for Kurt to have the spare energy after caring for his children and keeping himself together, he looked through his books to find information about selkies, or at least about seals. What he found made him groan, but simultaneously gave him a sense of relief – he would have to wait another year before giving birth. He didn’t look forward to dealing with another long pregnancy, but at least he had a longer time before he’d be expected to conceive again.

This pregnancy turned out to be mercifully easy. Kurt was glad, because as Elizabeth and Devon grew, he wore himself ragged keeping up with them. Devon had started to babble the previous autumn, and was progressing quickly to using a few real words. His favorite, predictably, was “no,” but it warmed Kurt’s heart that his second favorite was “papa.” Elizabeth listened intently to everything her brother and father said, and Kurt nearly shrieked in delight when she managed to repeat “papa” as the first leaves were falling.  
  
That spring, Kurt had taken up drawing again. He’d been good at it in his youth at the castle, and despite his initial rustiness, soon the cabin’s walls were hung with myriad portraits of Devon and Elizabeth as they grew. Naturally, there were also a number of Devon and Elizabeth’s own scribblings decorating the place, once they saw their father having fun with paper and charcoal. The number of baths given in the cabin also shot up around that time.  
  
In all, it wasn’t a miserable year. Kurt still wished more than anything that he could be free, and he lived with the constant terror that his children would be stolen from him, but he loved the little ones and they kept him busy and often smiling.  
  
The spring came again after a long winter, and one day Kurt recognized the signs from his body that the baby was almost ready. He moved as quickly as his acquired bulk allowed, putting Elizabeth and Devon into their crib (and hoping Devon would stay there and not escape like he was wont to do recently) and laying out a sheet on the floor. By the time the faeries arrived, Kurt was already breathing steadily through the contractions and the babies had fallen asleep.  
  
It was an easy birth, and Kurt was actually surprised to find that it was over. He was also somewhat surprised that the newborn was a seal pup, but he took a deep breath and shook off the shock, and took it into his arms as the faeries cleaned him up.   
  
As always, the faeries disappeared as soon as the baby opened its mouth and gave a little mewl, and Kurt took over cleaning up the little seal himself. As he rubbed a warm wet rag over its fur, though, the little creature squirmed and, abruptly, Kurt found himself holding a newborn human infant, a tiny sealskin dropping wetly to the floor. Thankfully, Kurt managed to keep hold of the baby through his surprise, and continued cleaning the little boy up.  
  
Life with a baby selkie took some adjustment, and Kurt eventually settled on letting the baby stay in seal form for about half the day, which he spent swimming happily in the bathtub, and in human form the rest of the time, his sealskin safely on an upper shelf as he laid on a blanket on the floor or bed, turning his head with great effort to watch his siblings playing.  
  
Through the daily trials and excitement of living with a toddler satyr, a baby centaur, and a newborn selkie, thoughts of the clearing were never far from Kurt’s mind. He looked through books of mythological creatures every night, driven by morbid curiosity and a determination not to be caught off guard.  
  
When he did find himself rising from bed and walking to the clearing again, though, he wasn’t ready for what was awaiting him.


End file.
